Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1887-02-25
THE BASILISK.
A STORY OF TODAY.
CHAPTER XIII.

Buried alive! The overwhelming
horror of this idea had the effect of
thoroughly recalling my scattered
senses. remembered going to Mr..
Beaufoy's study, tho interview, and the
sudden fall into insensibility and dark
ness. The chair to which Mr.. Beaufoy
had, with marked persistence, invited
me, was trap; doubtless he imagined
a trap of death.
I raised myself, at first with some
pain and difficulty, and endeavoured to
look aboutme. The darkness, however,
was too thick to allow of my getting
any idea of the depth I had fallen, or of
the nature of my prison. Iascert:ined,
however that I had fallen upon heap
of loose mould, which seemed to have
recently been thrown up, and which
had certainly saved my bones, if not
my life, for all about I felt the hard SUI
face of a concrete floor.
In my pocket was a box of wax
matches. remembered it with JOY,
and was on the point of striking a
light to relieve tho horror of
the unknown darkness, when sud-
denly the imprudence of such a course
occurred to me forcibly.
Whatever happened, or whatever
might be intended to happen, it was
certain that my fate would be further
enquired into, and in the desperate cir
cumstances in which l was now placed,
it was not my cue to give any sign of
life, or to prepare my enemies for any
further opposition or resistance. I
carefully replaced the matchbox in my
pocket deriving distinct comfort from
the sense of power which the possession
of the means of securing a light con-
ferred upon me. And so for awhile
sat upon the heap of mould in the dark
| ness.
| After while the inaction became in
supportable, and the darkness and
silence began to play fantastic tricks
with eye and ear, until at length ]
could no longer withstand the craving
for light.
I struck match, and in moment
all imaginary terrors were dispersed.
The clear flame of the wax vesta dis.
closed spacious cellar or vault, with
well-bricked sides and concrete floor
At one end was door, which
examined, and found to be locked
Over the spot where I had fallen
could dimly make out the machinery Of
the spring trap-door, through which
had been so suddenly precipitated into
captivity. The earth upon which
had fallen was newly-turned. In shape
and disposition it recalled the idea of a
newly-flled grave.
I started back with a feeling O!
superstitious terror. This must be
Hardy's grave! And even at that mo-
ment feeling of reinsurance filled my
spirit. If my surmise were correct
this grave had saved me from injury
I should be spared yet to bring this
murderous household to account. But
meantimeP How to act? And what
were the intentions of my enemies:
Again struck a light and carefully
examined the cellar-door. 1t had little
in common with the heavy ill-hune
door, such as l had been accustomed
to in my childhood's home, whose
fastenings were as ponderous as they
were ineffective. This door seemed
massive and heavy enough, but it fittei
closely. was polished and new in ap
pearance, and scarcely ratified at all II
answer to my emphatic, though guarded
attacks. I returned in a Respondent
frame to the spot where I had fallen
and new horrors began to crowd in up
on my mind. Mary was now defence
less, andTI was even more 90. Die
they mean to leave me hero to starve:
It was not impossible. Or would the
stealthy assassin-who had already, in
intention, slain me-come upon me-
enfeebled and unarmed, and consul,
at once his malice and his securityp
If he would only come soon-soon,
while my strength was unimpaired
soon, while my spirit was unbroken
Armed or unarmed, alone or with hi
miscreant creatures at his back,
would give good account of Herr
Professor Plowitz before he sent me tx
my own.
Ha! Is it a fancy? Is it the blood
surging and throbbing in my temple:
that makes those streaks of light visible
afar? No; it is real light shining more
and more clearly, in the darkness
through the crcvices of the door. The
stiffness is broken by the. sound of thu
! turning lock, and as sink. back upor
the heap of mould, figure appears al
the door, throwing the light of the
lamp into the cellar, and shading his
face with his hand. Who is It'll
Satisfied, seemingly, with my immova'
bility, he turns the key in the lock, and
with the key-ring on his finger, advan'
ccs into the cellar. 1t is not Plowitz
no, it is Mr. Beaufoy. l lie rs still al
death, and. yet between my half-closei
eyelids watch his approach. He Slip
the keys into his pocket, and then I sec
something shining in his hand, glitter
ing now and again as tho rays Of tn,
lamp fell upon it. It is 4 long dagger
and over his arm hangs 9 long cord